And here, to explain this morbid disposition of Zedekiah, it may be observed, that that worthy considered everything that related to coffins and funerals, in what shape soever it might present itself, as one of the most fruitful sources of human enjoyment. Some people might think a bridal, or a christening, in which all is life and festivity, worthy of attention; but Zedekiah’s object of desire was a burial. Many would have preferred to pass the summer evenings in the green fields, where, if the weather served, every object looked fresh and cheerful, and the air was laden with fragrance; but Zedekiah, with a singular constancy, took his walks in the churchyard, and recreated himself among the tombs. He could tell the date of every death in the neighbourhood for a whole age; and could repeat literally, at a moment’s warning, the epitaph and inscription on any given tomb. He attended every funeral for miles round; and though, by his own account, he had never yet had the happiness to officiate as chief mourner, he always held a conspicuous and prominent place in the procession, and was considered as indispensable at a decent interment as the undertaker himself. These circumstances being borne in mind, it will be readily imagined, on a closer glance at his character, that Zedekiah looked forward to the funeral of Cummer Griffin with no small degree of pleasure. Abigail, however, having a mortal horror of death, did not participate in this feeling, and she replied to Zedekiah’s remarks in a tone of some asperity. “What a pestilent din dost thou make o’ this burying!” she said. “Thou’dst like all the world to die, so thou mightst but see them buried. But let us to our work, or the Evil One, mayhap, will be upon us anon, and lead us some other dance.” “Art advised that the horseshoe will keep him out?” inquired Zedekiah. “Ay, and conjure him into the Red Sea, too,” answered Abigail. “But, go to! Let us about it!” Zedekiah acquiesced, and, without more ado, they set forward, taking care to put out the left foot first. They passed along unmolested, and, in due time, reached the stable, where Dobbin--by which humble name the Rosinante-looking steed described in a former chapter was known--was lodged. Abigail, pursuant to a concerted understanding, stood on sentry without, with the poker clutched tightly in her hand, while Zedekiah proceeded to bring Dobbin forth. That patient beast passively submitted to his hand, and he was brought out, unconscious of his doom, to undergo the operation that Abigail had suggested. “Be wary now, Zedekiah,” remarked Abigail, at this juncture; “for the demon, thou mayst be sure, will be well on his guard. Do thou look to Dobbin, and I will keep watch against harm.” “I begin to be marvellously afeard,” replied Zedekiah, in a tremulous voice. “I would the demon were well in the Red Sea.”